Cohabitation
by snowless.winter
Summary: Draco and Harry have to live together in their seventh year because of a bright idea that came from the Headmaster. And this is what ensues. Do I need to say more? FUN AHEAD! creature fic
1. Chapter 1:Inheritance

Hiya! For those who don't know me, I'm Snowless Winter, or Snow, or SW, or "you over there", or whatever you want. This will be my first ever fanfic. Means that it'll be ENTIRELY MIIIIIIIIIINE!!!! (Doing a happy dance) Just know that I don't have a beta so I struggling on it on my own and any mistakes you'll find will be mine. Yeah, and also flames are welcome, as advices, but if they get too go-to-hell-ish, I might respond with a verbal ass-kicking session. (growls) (lol) Now I have to explain the whole idea of the story before someone gets disappointed and flames me alive.

I know that the whole thing sounds absolutely cliché, but I'm doing this just to make the reader (YOU!!!) smile, or better, have a good laugh. Before you read, keep in mind that Dumbledore is not evil (no, in fact, he'll be a good teddy-gramp and sit back and watch the D/H show) and Ron and Hermione are friendly and not bratty idiots. The whole point of this is to be fluffy, cute, funny and cheering. Miracle cure against depression. Better than Advil, better than chocolate cakes, but not as good as ice cream… A FIC!!!

NO DRAMA WILL BE ALLOWED IN THIS FIC!!!!! (Ok, a tiny little bit, just to have a decent plot) There's no mate thing in my fic. It's too used as an excuse. I find it explored till bare threads and it's no fun anymore (pouts) (I really sound like a spoiled little girl). And finally, just sit and enjoy the HPDM torture… hehe. (Evil grin) Oh, and I hated book six so I'm gonna pretend that JK Rowling didn't write it and ramble on happily, deal?

**Warning:** Ok, I'll say it once and for all. This is a creature fic, there will be slash, it's HP/DM or DM/HP or whatever you want, as long as they are together, the rating is there because of the content, the author (me) is evil-minded, and the guys are going to suffer. So if you're not comfortable with the matters dealt with, please hit "back".

**Disclaimer:** Nothing's mine except the torturous events that the poor guys will have to endure. HP and other characters are property of JK Rowling. (Lucky person)

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**Chapter 1: Inheritance**

Staying up until midnight for his birthday was a tradition to Harry Potter. As far as he could remember, he has always been doing it. Every year, he would be up on a night of July blowing a single candle on the count of midnight. The Dursleys did not allow any other sort of celebration so little Harry had made up a clandestine "ritual" to never forget this day. And the "ritual" remained as little Harry grew and was passed on to the now nearly seventeen Harry, laying on his stomach on the bed, eyes glued to the broken face of his clock. A single candle lighted the room. Outside, the inky sky was splashed with bright stars. The misty glow of the moon made it look surreal, ghostly. As midnight approached, a light draft made it's way around the room. One more minute to go… 30 seconds…

3…

2…

1…

"Happy birthday Harry," wished the Hope of the Wizarding world to himself, before blowing the white light in front of him. Once his annual celebration done, he rolled on his back and slept soundly through the night. Never did he see his pillow glow, nor did he notice the changes that occurred that night.

**The next morning**

Green eyes opened as the first rays of dawn reached the smallest room of the 4 Privet Drive. Harry managed to get his glasses from the nightstand and got up. He stood there groggily for a moment, not fully awoke, and headed to the bathroom for a shower. Maybe it was because of his still fuzzy state of mind or his blurry vision despite the glasses, but somehow he wasn't aware of anything wrong even with all the major changes to his body. He took off his used-up-to-bare-thread pyjamas and climbed in the cabin. Hot water and steam brushed against his skin and wet his hair. Just then, he felt a silky weight on his back. He reached out a hand only to find out that his hair had grown during the night.

"What the hell?!?"

He got out as fast as possible, careful NOT to wake the entire Dursley household 'cause that would mean a whole lot of painful trouble (normally, they don't get up till 10 on holidays). He stood up in front of a mirror and his reflection stared back at him. Trust me, the hair problem was nothing more than the tiny tip of the iceberg.

His eyes were green as usual but his features sharpened. They became somehow more distinguished, more refined. His skin remained pale but now, they had a rather healthy glow. His hair grew longer than he expected – night-colored locks cascaded freely in waves behind his back, reaching almost his knees. 'I look like a girl,' thought Harry as he saw the thick lashes that now shaded his eyes, making them greener (as if it was possible) and making anyone of the female kind envy till death. He was also taller now. He was slim, but not skinny. Tall and slim, with definite muscle tone. 'Sleek,' thought Harry, 'and I'm almost as tall as Ron now.' He smoothed back a strand of hair behind his ear…and froze still in his track. His ear was pointy, sharp, and looked fragile. In other words: cute. Though it wasn't the cuteness of his ear that was on Harry's mind. 'I'm an elf.' Then he realized that he could feel the living souls around him, hear the wind blow past the begonias, smell the sweet scent of the leaves… He could sense the pulse of life, the essence of the being. His senses were sharper. He realized that for the first time, he was actually seeing something without his glasses. The world was not sketchy and blurry anymore. Things seemed crystal clear. From that point, he was absolutely sure of being an elf.

He went across the hall to drop on his bed. It was too much shocking news to handle. Instinctively, he grabbed his pillow (You know, teddy-style). Something hard was underneath. It was a small silvery box. The box was made of solid transparent crystal. It had runes and symbols that he didn't recognize engraved on what he assumed was stone. The little cube could fit in his palm and seemed to contain some kind of liquid in it. Harry was hypnotized by the circular movement of the misty substance. He watched with mesmerized eyes as the silvery liquid lapped lazily in the translucent box, catching glimpses of light. It reminded him of a pensive. There was a rather large amount of magic coming from the little glittering cube. He stared at it, wondering whether to open it or not. To his surprise, the cover lifted it-self, leaving him with no choice at all. The smoky substance whirled around him, creating a sketchy face. For a moment, Harry was scared that the liquid, no smoke, argl, call-it-whatever-you-want thing "de-elved" him, since his vision was going back to abstract/impressionist painting-like. And then, the voice rose…

_Harry,_

_If you are listening to this, it will be because I'm no longer with you. I wish that I was there with you last night but it seems that Fate decided I was not allowed to help._

It was a woman's voice. A calm voice. The person who was speaking was determined, but you could feel infinite sadness in that beautiful voice. Harry thought that it was familiar. Somewhere, deep in his subconscious, he recognized that voice. He knew that at a certain period of his existence, the owner of the voice was part of his every days. He just couldn't label a face to that voice.

_First of all, happy seventeenth birthday my son._

"Mother?" whispered Harry shakily.

The voice went on.

_Consider this a gift from Mummy and Daddy. Today will be your first day as an elf. No, you're not mistaken. YOU, HARRY JAMES POTTER, ARE AN ELF. You see, I was of the elfish kind and your father had elf blood in his family. The object you have in your hands is an Answerer._

He looked at the little cube in his hand. His fingers tightened around it.

_It will give you any information you need to know. It can be set to give information on any subject; it all depends on the will of the one who spelled it. This one will give you all the information it can on the elves. It has been in your father's family for centuries. Everyone who had the Inheritance gave a bit of information to build the knowledge in this box. And I added some of my own too. Just ask any question you have on it and it will try to answer you the best it could. Sorry for not letting you know before but you need to understand that being and elf out there is dangerous. People would kill to get you to marry one of theirs. Elves are rare and especially strong magical creatures. It's considered an honor to have an elf in one's family. Please, for your security, don't let anyone know about you Inheritance unless they have your full trust. We are proud of you, Harry._

_Love forever_

_Your mother, Lily Potter_

'Great! Now I'm an elf, which is dangerous for my well being, on top of being the blasted Boy Who Lived, the number one on Voldie's "to Avada" list. Just bloody great! Another reason to get killed for.' He wasn't angry at his parents. He was genuinely shaken by the message that his mother left him. It was the "being an elf is dangerous" part that upset him. 'Like it's not enough to have the darkest wizard ever on your back. NO! Harry Potter had to be special 'cause otherwise life would be sooooo much simpler!' Mostly, he hated himself. Harry tore the idea to shreds, not wanting to linger on those thoughts.

_Hullo, youngling. Need my help and endless knowledge?_

Another voice took over Lily's. This one had an as-a-matter-of-factly tone. It was talking cheerfully despite the "knowledge" flooding it. 'God! Another Hermione! What did I do wrong to Karma?' (Harry, that's not very nice to Hermy. Apologize at once if you want to see Drake later!)

"Hun?" replied Harry intelligently. The voice came from the smoke-made figure. It was more defined now. You could distinguish the facial features of an elf. Though the gender was still a mystery. And it was talking. More accurately, grinning.

Are you sure you're an elf? They are known to be more perspicacious, you know? 

That was it. Harry cracked.

"How am I supposed to act like an elf when I've officially been one for only about 6 hours in which I spent 5 sleeping? Considering that fact that I've been told the information about five minutes ago, it's surprising that I'm talking to you, not that it's normal to have a conversation with a box. Besides, I don't even have the faintest clue of what's an elf even if I am supposed to be one!"

_Good question, young one. Perhaps it's time someone gives you proper education._

"…" Harry sat back and looked at the "creature" expectantly.

_First of all, let me introduce myself. I am an Answerer. It's the name of my kind. For example, you, Harry James Potter are an elf. It's as simple as that. It's not my name. Therefore, I forbid you to refer to me as "Answerer". Call me Ehren. I'll call you Harry. Unless you want to find out what things there are after life, don't call me "Answerer"._

Harry nodded.

(Mood switch)_ Now that I'm done with the threats and the boring part of my job, we can go on with the fun part!!! _

(Sweatdrop from Harry)

_Elves are some of the most beautiful creatures in the world. Beautiful, not constantly lusted after. There's a nuance between the two. Leave the seduction part to the veelas. Elves are made to be admired, not drooled-over. If the blood is "pure" and "strong" enough, you should have pointy ears and long hair. The longer your hair is, the "higher" you are in the hierarchy. Obviously, your predestinated place is high ranked. Normally, elves wear their hair a little past their shoulders. Yours reach the knees._

"Almost too girly to be true… Can't believe I'm talking to a smoke-man about the length of my hair," mumbled Harry, tossing the said hair behind his back.

_It's tradition and it's perfectly logic._

"Yeah, right. Perfectly (Not!). Seriously, where does it come from?"

_It's from the fact that the higher your rank is, the lesser tasks you need to do, and the more you have to take care of you image. Since elf hair is a powerful thing and that they are very proud of it, they grow it and take care of it._

"Wait a minute. Aren't elves supposed to be warriors?" asked Harry, as he remembered a piece of information from class.

_Nope. They are pacific creatures who take the art of weapon-handling very seriously._

"Whatever. Go on with the hair growing."

Ehren muttered something about "the-youth-nowadays-who-don't-respect-ancient-tradition" and "Potters-being-the-worst-family-he-ever-served" before continuing.

_Anyway. At that time, the elves were able to decide the length they want to wear their hair. Now, you don't get that choice anymore. You are born with the length of hair you have and it's like that forever. Don't you ever try to cut it. The consequences are yours. I'm just warning you. The only way to change it is to make your social status change._

'Great. I'm gonna look like a girl forever over the fact that I spent 15 minutes discussing about hair,' thought darkly Harry

"You said something about elf hair being powerful. What does that mean?"

_Elf hair is a very hard to get potion ingredient. It has to be given willingly in order to keep all its powers. And it's really dangerous in ill-intentioned hands – a single hair added to veritaserum, for example, can make the drinker the slave of the brewer, and not any slave: a slave that is willing to do any task at any cost, that won't ever contradict the order and will never lie to it's master. And it could only be used by the one who was directly given the hair._

(Can you believe it? All that blah blah for a hair. I told you that the author is insane. Had to listen to the warning! Now you're trapped in the story!!! MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wait, you're not. You can always hit back. Awww! That's too bad. Snif sniff.)

"Are there any other elfish powers that I have to know about before someone tries to scalp me or rape me?"

_You don't have attraction power or any manipulative power over other livings' mind from what I know. Elves are particularly good at wandless magic. They can use magic and still be undetected. DON'T USE THIS PRIVILEGE TO PRANK!!!! By the way, you should cast a glamour on yourself. Just to hide your hair and the pointy tips of your ears. Just concentrate on the result. Wandless magic is pretty much the same as when you use a wand. It's just that the magic comes from you instead of the wand. Simple._

Harry concentrated on an image of himself before. He felt the magic at work. It was a new feeling that was kind of odd. But it felt so right.

"Better?"

_Definitely. This way, you won't be so easily recognized as elfish, even if I highly doubt you'll let anyone harm you before you're done with Riddle._

_Most elves, if not all, have strong will and won't let others decide for them. They are cunning and intelligent. I would say that they are rather open-minded and not hostile when not needed. To resume all that in one sentence, you are supposed to be smart. Key word here being "supposed". (murderous glare from Harry) Ok, spare a few who are plain idiotic. And yes, there are imbeciles in your kind, Harry. For instance, Lord Voldemort has an elf granp' somewhere in the family line. And that's enough to be considered descendant of elves. Not that I'm proud to be related somehow to that sadistic bastard, but he is recognized as "of elfish blood" and has some of the power that comes with it. Oh, and I forgot to mention that you are most likely to have quite a temper when something sets you off. Hi hi. _

'Voldie's an elf too?' thought Harry. 'That explains quite a few things.'

_Elves, as I said before are extremely powerful creatures. They can make very beautiful jewelry pieces with material that ordinary wizard couldn't even try to work with and charm them for shield protection or other sort of enchantment. Every elf can do it. Only, some are strong and some are not. And each work will be unique.  
_

"Why do I have this acute feeling that uneasiness is on the way?"

_Because elves are very intuitive creatures?_

"Was that an attempt to make a joke out of it?" asked Harry, narrowing his eyes warily at Ehren who swallowed hardly, well as hard as a smoke figure could.

_Every individual has to create an earring on his or her first day of Inheritance and wear it. It sort of "seals" the Inheritance. Once you put it on, it becomes a part of yourself. You will be able to take it off, but don't even think of "forgetting" it. And it's a code for the elves to recognize their peers. It will show even if you cast a glamour charm on it. The first creation won't be done by the willing of the elf, but by the willing of Fate. No one can foresee the form of the earring. Sorry youngling, you could end up with a chandelier and have to wear it all your life._

"If ever I get out of this one, I swear that I'll do my homework on time for the year and take notes in Binn's class AND be nice to Snape."

_Hey! I'm not done here!_

"You mean there's more?"

_You don't want to know how many years you can live?_

"Go on!"

_Elves live as long as their power supports them. Unless they are killed, a really strong elf can be immortal. The Elder was born when time wasn't even invented and last time I checked, he was still alive and kicking._

"I could be immortal," whispered Harry softly.

_Don't count on that one. From what I saw, I give you maximum 200 years. Hahaha_

"Growls"

_Now you have to listen carefully. An elf's blood can make the drinker live as long as the elf lives, and by the same way make the elfish law apply to them. It can only happen once in your life. If you are immortal, the other will be too. The person will live as long as you will. Don't worry it won't "shorten" your life. But remember that it's dangerous. You have to be sure that the Gift is well used. Once you give it, there will be no way out of it._

Harry nodded.

_(Happy mood switch) Oh! and elves have the power to camouflage in a forest. It's an ability that comes from the Ancients who lived in forests. They would blend in with the trees and be undetected. But it comes with a down side. An elf has to keep in touch with the nature. He or she will have to be outside at least once in two days or could become ill. An elf that can't go outside will most likely commit suicide. Nature is a part of you and YOU CAN'T DENIE IT._

"… How can you be so cheery when you talk about suicide?"

_Tsk tsk. That's not how you're supposed to talk to your mentor._

"YOU LITTLE SMOKE MAN ARE NOT BY ANY MEAN LINKED TO ME, AND SURLY NOT MY MENTOR!!!"

_The "little smoke man" says that you'd better go on with the Creation for now rather that debating whether the said "little smoke man" is competent enough to be a mentor._

"But where the hell will I get a stone to make my Creation?"

_Look in my box. You should find what you need in there._

He stared at the crystal. It was now glittering red. Blood red. 'A ruby?' he thought.

_Your clan's stone. Take it in your hand and let your magic do the rest._

He took the deep red stone in his hand. It was a reassuring cold weight on his palm. Somehow, he felt a connection being linked between himself and the stone. The ruby was glowing and soon, a red halo surrounded them both. The stone began to melt in his hand the same way ice would have when heated, except that there was no heat. It was liquid but not a single drop ran down his wrist. The red liquid began to stir slowly, then, faster, and faster…

Suddenly, a red lightning stroke.

Harry came back to himself as the red light waned and faded. On his hand rested a beautiful gem. It was shaped as a scintillating droplet of water attached to an equally shimmering diamond. You would expect it to glide down and vanish into thin air. It looked fragile.

_Hum… Discreet but stunning. Charming, simply charming young elf. Now try it on._

"Er – "

_What?_

"I never used to wear earrings." (Implying that he did not get his ear pierced)

_Well, now you will. _(Implying that the child's idiot cause he didn't notice this apparently "obviously major" change)

He approached the mirror slowly, unsure what to do next. He examines his ear closely and found…

'How the hell did I get my earlobe pierced?"

_(Ehren thinking) Is the kid really stupid or is he that good an actor?_

After struggling for 15 minutes, Harry finally managed to fix the (damn) jewel to his (very sore) ear. He glared at Ehren. Seriously, he was willing to kill the next person talking about earrings and elves – which meant Ehren in the end.

"Why are you laughing while I'm suffering here?"

_Cause it's funny. And I forgot to tell you: Congratulations on accepting the Inheritance. Now you that you are an elf, I can no longer be mean to you and be disrespectful old little moi. You know, now that you are considered a man and not a child, maybe it's the time we had a Talk – _

"You know, I could put you back in the box and close it and seal it forever…"

_Yeah, but for now, you need me to answer a question that's been on your mind since the beginning._

Harry gave him a puzzled glance and decided to dive in with his question. "If my mom was an elf, it means that her parents were before her and that my aunt is too and that mini-whale (Dudley) is half-blood"

_Lily Evans was an orphan that the Evans found on their doorsteps – just like you – and she is not related to the Evans, at least not by blood._

"How come? If she wasn't related to them, then why I'm stuck here?"

_That's for me to not know and for you to discover and tell me later._

"You know that it was pathetic, don't you?"

_That will be all for today…_

Just as Ehren finished his sentence and shrank back to his box…

Boom! Boom!

"Get up freak! It's almost 10 o'clock!! Get your lazy ass down and make the breakfast!!!!"

Harry smirked.

Same old Uncle Vernon.

And he went down to make the breakfast for 31 and a half people (10 four Vernon, 20 for Dudley, 1/2 for Petunia and 1 for himself) with a wide smile and his glamour on.

His grin widened when he caught the surprised/disgusted/jealous/murderous looks of his, well ex-relatives. (Caused by his stunning new looks, courtesy of Elf Makeover Unlimited Inc.)

This is gonna be FUN…

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I know it's boring and there's no action but I can't help it. The first few chaps will be for the settings. Sorry. There will be fun stuff later. And don't worry; I planed for loads of fun. 

Later!

Snow

P. -S. Please be kind and take a few minutes to review cuz I live because of you, my kind reviewers. Seriously, I need to know if this is worth loosing my hair and sane mind on. If no one likes it, I might as well think of other stuff to do.


	2. Chapter 2:Awakening

It's me again! Just saying hello. Here's Chap 2. A/N at the end. Enjoy!

**Warning:** Beware the cute! Can't you see it? It's coming! Hurry or it will be too late to keep your mind sane and pure! FLED!!!

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. As much as my need of kidnapping them is clawing me from the inside, I can't. So for now, or at least until I let myself succumb to the temptation of tying them in a closet, Harry and Draco will remain property of JK Rowling. It applies to all the other characters as well. (Not the kidnap part, you twisted-minded!)

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**Chapter 2: Awakening**

While Harry and Ehren were discussing about haircuts and earrings, the living souls of Malfoy Manor were stressing over a certain blonde lying in bed. Draco Malfoy looked dead. Well, technically, he was. He wasn't breathing, moving or making a sound. And hasn't eaten for five weeks. It all began the day of his birthday.

**Five weeks ago**

The uneasiness had taunted him for days now. He felt weak and frail. As if he would stumble over and faint if he stood for too long. As if every single one of his muscles were attached to a thirty-pound weight. His already pale complexion was a shade or two whiter, making him look like an antique porcelain doll. His equally pale blond hair was hanging loosely around his face, his bangs falling in his eyes. His eyes. Two swirling mercury pools that anyone would be gladly diving in. He still looked good save the dark blackish circles made him look even more tired that Lupin and the "I'm-sick-of-being-sick-and-just-plain-sickened-by-the-thought-of-being-sick" expression on his delicate features. It was official. Draco Malfoy was extremely ill… on his birthday. No, that wasn't nearly desperate enough. Say it with me: ON HIS FREAKING BLOODY BIRTHDAY WHEN HE WAS EXPECTED TO LOOK HIS BEST AND SHOW OFF EVERYTHING HE HAD AND MAKE HIS PARENTS PROUD!!!!!! Good. Anyway, no matter how you look at it, how much you turn it or twist it, the problem remained it ugly glorious self: Draco Malfoy, crown price of purebloods, was ill on his birthday. There was nothing more to be said on that one. 'Dad's SOOOOOO gonna skin me alive,' thought darkly the Boy-to-be-skinned-by-his-own-family.

He was currently standing (leaning on a table) in the middle of his walk-in closet. Why? Well, first of all, as much as he would have loved spending the whole day in bed, there was nothing he could do to help it – he had to get dressed and face the world and his blasted birthday. The second reason is that he wants to hide from Narcissa 'cause if ever she had to find him looking like he was now; his life would end at once. She would talk to Lucius, who would make sure that he's granted a painful death.

"Draco dear! How are you feeling? Anything wrong?" chipped the always-cheerful Narcissa Malfoy APKA (Also Publicly Known As) The Ice Queen.

"Um… I'm fine mum. As fine as you should normally be on your sixteenth birthday," answered Draco, as normally possible. He grabbed a pair of trousers on a rack nearby and a random shirt out of a neatly folded pile. Usually, he would take excruciating care in his appearance but he preferred saving his almost nonexistent energy doing other tasks. Namely, act normal around his parents, NOT faint in front of all guests that his parents invited to his birthday ball ("party" not being an existing word in a properly taught aristocrat's vocabulary register), not looking like Mr. I've-been-hexed-to-Hell-and-back, stop acting like a half-dead rainbow pixie and managing to stay alive, or at least breeze in and out regularly at short intervals of time to get some oxygen in his lungs.

He finished getting dressed and walked out… to find Narcissa beaming at him with a big smile (looking suspiciously like a grin) on her perfect features.

The smile (GRIN!!!) faded out the moment she detailed Draco's clothing.

"Oh please! You can do better than that! It's not like we are a poor family and that we can't afford you decent clothing! Now listen up: DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY, YOU ARE GOING TO GET IN THAT WARDROBE OF YOURS AND PICK OUT SOMETHING TASTEFUL THAT'S PRESENTABLE IN PUBLIC FOR A YOUNG WIZARD AND TRADE THEM WITH THE HORRIBLE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING!!! AT ONCE!!!" yelled Narcissa, disgusted to death by the sight of her son in plain blue denim pants (jeans for non-aristocrats) and a polo T-shirt. Joining concrete actions to her words, she summoned her house-elf, Twinky, and pushed a stunned Draco in the wardrobe and closed the door behind her. It was fascinating to see how fast could the happily smiling Narcissa enter her dangerous-life-threatening-mother-dressing-her-only-child-with-the-foulest-sense-of-taste-on-Earth-mode faster than Draco could blink.

"Now, now… let's see what we can do with this delicious child/master," said Narcissa and Twinky with the same mechanical, robotic creepy-like-Hell voice, wearing the same predatory expression on their faces.

And they started to turn the room upside down to find THE perfect outfit… while Draco sat in the middle of the room and soon-to-be mini-tornado building in with bewildered eyes.

Thirty minutes, twenty different ensembles later, their minds were (finally!) set. Draco was to wear a turtleneck green sweater that looked fuzzy and warm (and made anyone want to get a hug from Draco 'cause it's so soft) and some black tailored pants. The shirt was rather tight fitting and show-off (so poor little Drake was a tad uncomfortable in it) and the pants made his legs look longer than they already were.

He was now handed to Twinky so she could fix his white-blonde hair. And he was scared out of his skin. Hey! Don't look at the poor bloke like that! The maniacal house-elf had a shining pair of scissors (he swore that she looked at them tenderly) and was glaring at him so hard that Draco wouldn't be surprised if strands of his poor tortured hair were falling on the floor because of her intense gazing. She mumbled weird words while chopping mercilessly his, once again, innocent hair. She even tied him up and gagged him so he wouldn't make a move while she was at work. Frankly, you'd rather face Jack the Ripper than Twinky with scissors in a dark alley at night. But while the whole process wasn't pleasant, the result was stunning.

Imagine this: Draco Malfoy, (a cute Sixth year Slytherin, Seeker for his house, rich, extremely rich, very handsome, very powerful, witty, yummy guy) in other words: the ladies' man stands in front of you in "tasteful pureblood wizard suited" outfit (from the charming Narcissa Malfoy herself) and "perfect aristocratic-like hairdo" (courtesy of Twinky) plus a bad-boy look that came with the natural arrogant attitude and finish off with the precious fragile porcelain doll looks. Drool my friend, drool. Hottie ahead.

And then Narcissa remembered what she was doing in the first place in Draco's bedroom.

"Draco, dear, I forgot to tell you when I got here that Lucius wants to see you in his study as soon as possible. He's waiting for you I think. Maybe you should go…" said Narcissa all of a sudden, out of the blue.

------

'Argl! Can't believe how my mum is childish sometimes. Now dad's going to mincemeat me after he skins me, ' thought Draco as he sprinted across the hall to his father's office.

"Come in," said a voice through the door.

Obediently, Draco stepped in. He always liked his father's study as far as he remembered. As a child, he would always try to sneak in to play with the various old and fragile instruments, each time cutting short his father's lifetime by a few years.

"You are late," said Lucius Malfoy flatly as a greeting, not even bothering to lift his eyes from the Daily Prophet he was reading.

"Sorry. Trapped with mum and Twinky in a wardrobe."

Lucius took a look at his son.

"Congratulation for surviving."

"It's that horrible? I didn't have time to check in a mirror before rushing here."

"No comments."

"…"

"But you are late anyway. Get seated now because we will not stay here all day, and we wasted enough time already."

Ladies and gentlemen, you now know what it's like to be Draco Malfoy. He lives in a manor that's so big even himself gets lost in the halls sometimes. His mother is the perfect child. She's always cheery happy and lives in Wonderland. She's so naïve that you could make her believe almost anything if you tried. In fact, Narcissa would trust anyone if his father hadn't brainwashed her into not being nice to people she doesn't know or people that a good Malfoy was supposed to hate, thus the "Ice-queen" image she had in public. It doesn't mean that she's some sort of a dimwit! She knew when to step in and defend her family but usually, she acts like a kid (quote: "It's much funnier to be a child and rule your family than to be one of those insipid adults and rule the world. pouts "). Then there was his father. Also known as the Big Bad Wolf. Or Death Muncher number one. He is indeed a very cold man, but the social image was just simply overblown. He knew when to stop being a bastard, just as Narcissa knew when to snap out of it. If only people could see through the Malfoy mask, they would see a happy family. OK, I recon that it's not the epitome of "the perfect family" that would be cut out from a magazine but hey, they are happy, and that's all that counts. They had their way of functioning and they were fine with it.

But they kept a secret.

The Malfoy family were veelas.

Every single one of the members of the Malfoy clan had veela blood running through their veins. Which meant that Draco was bond to become a creature of seduction on his seventeenth birthday. He was raised with the thought that one day (he didn't know when), he won't be fully human anymore and ever since his childhood, he knew everything there is to know about veelas.

Now guess what's the subject of the conversation Lucius wants to have with his son? (Veelas for those who didn't catch it)

"So, you don't have any inking of why you are here now?"

"Nope"

"And I told her to prepare you for it! Sometimes, I wonder how I felt in love with such a woman."

"Tsk, tsk. That's not something nice to say to your favorite blonde, Luce," said sweetly a third voice, obviously, Narcissa's.

"We all are blondes in here, " said flatly Lucius.

"That's beside the point! I'm your favorite blonde in the whole Universe!!(pouts)"

"Mum? Dad? ("What about me!? I'm blonde too!!!" screamed Inner Draco) Can we go back to why I'm in here?"

"Of course. It will be shocking news but since the blonde over there (Narcissa) didn't tell you, you are allowed to look surprised."

"Hey! Don't look at me like that! I tried! What do you think my intentions were when I dressed him properly this morning?"

(Lucius and Draco thinking: torture the poor boy in the worst way possible and make him suffer, that's why.)

Lucius was the one to break the (heavy, threatening, full of dark thoughts, not-good-sign) silence.

"We are here to talk about your Awakening."

"What about it? It wont come before a few years, no?"

This time, Narcissa spoke.

"It's tonight."

"WHAT?!?!?"

Here's the thing. Veelas are adults on their seventeenth birthday. They become irresistible creatures and could make anyone not in a steady enough relationship want them only by willing it to happen. They could make anyone do anything if they put in a little of the legendary veela allure. But it also comes with a down side. A veela transforms into a bird-like ugly creature when they are angry. And since it's very easy to upset a veela, it happens quite often. The Malfoys were special within the veela community. They would have the wings but not the beaks and claws because they had more human blood than the other kind.

"It's been days since the first signs showed."

"What are you talking about?" asked innocently Draco.

"You've been feeling ill," answered Lucius.

"H-how did y-you know?"

"You are my son. How could I not know?"

"…"

That night, Draco went to bed early. There was no ball or party or anything that meant guests. For the first time in his whole existence, Draco Malfoy's birthday went by with no loud music and feast. And it was depressing.

Around midnight, he was burning with fever. His normally pale cheeks were red and hot. He was drenched in cold sweat a d his bed sheets were twisted around his body. Ice melt as soon as he touched it and nothing seemed cold enough to help him. It was like burning from the inside. He was screaming in pain.

And all his parents could do was to stand by his side and watch helplessly as he suffered.

Later in the same night, he passed out. His heart stopped beating and his whole body stopped functioning. A white light draped itself around him. It was protecting him of anything that could harm him. No one could touch him, move him, or cast a spell on him. His magic isolated him from the world.

It was normal for a veela to isolate himself when the Awakening begins. So his parents weren't worried about him not breathing. His magic will keep him alive. But the shield usually lasts no longer that a week…

And that brings us back to now, five weeks after that night.

Draco was still protected by the light.

Narcissa has been crying everyday after the day he was supposed to Wake. Her eyes were red and she refused to eat on her own. She would only take a bite when Lucius managed to make her feel that Draco didn't want her to starve to death. Lucius himself was worried to the point that he forgot that he was a criminal on the run and went out to meet Snape. Severus Snape being Draco's godfather and the best potion master since Salazar himself would surely have a solution. But he didn't. He only said something about the other soul and a prophecy involving a veela and an elf before waltzing out, his robes billowing wildly after him. Lucius knew that there was an old prophecy in the Malfoy family but he never truly believed it. And the Potter-brat only helped by destroying the archives at the Ministry. He felt as desperate as Narcissa but instead of showing it on the outside like her, he bottled it all inside.

Even the house elves were worried seeing their masters like that.

That day, finally, after five weeks of unconsciousness, Draco Malfoy opened his eyes.

"Mom?" he croaked out in a weak voice because of his dry throat.

"DRACO!!!!" He was crushed in a hug before he knew it.

"What happened?" he squeaked as he fought for air in the arms of Narcissa.

"You Awakened!!! You're a veela! Can't believe it's the day my little Drake turns into a man! I'm so HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!"

"Dad? Help?"

"It serves you right. You made her cry for weeks," replied Lucius.

"Maybe I should have stayed in bed…"

* * *

SOOOOO? How was that? I hope that it met your expectations… It was shorter than the first one but I wanted incorporate informations on veelas throut the story rather than just giving it all in one shot. And I know there's nothing that could be called a plot in here and it's already the second chap. I promise that in the next, THERE WILL BE A DECENT PLOT AND SOMETHING GOING ON!!!

Anyway. MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!!!! Love and sweets for all my kind and generous reviewers!!! Please, hit the purple little button and leave a message to me... (See? I'm sending virtual puppy eyes)

Snow-who-drunk-a-little-too-much-last-night


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